


Day 7 - Angry Sex - Spicyhoney

by ashtrayy



Series: Kinktober 2019 : Skeleton Edition [4]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angry Kissing, Angry Sex, Denial of Feelings, Dubious Consent, Ecto-Genitalia (Undertale), Ecto-Penis (Undertale), Ecto-Vagina (Undertale), I made it even longer when i wanted it to be shorter, Kinks, Kinktober, Kinktober 2019, Lots of fun time, M/M, Spicyhoney - Freeform, Underfell Papyrus (Undertale), Underswap Papyrus (Undertale), Well that's that, but not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-12-02 00:07:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20943464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashtrayy/pseuds/ashtrayy
Summary: Stretch finds out that maybe he shouldn't play with Edge that way.





	Day 7 - Angry Sex - Spicyhoney

**Author's Note:**

> I skipped Day 5 and Day 6 because I was out of town, but hey for the first time I am posting on the right day! So yeah, here is Day 7, the prompt is taken from vexy-sins and damnedxfate's Undertale kinktober 2019!

Stretch hits the ground of his bedroom hard, his breath knocked out of him when a foot crashes against his ribcage. He thinks that there is a cracking sound that follows the hit, but hopes it's in his head and that the pain is just a result of the hit he took. At least, his HP doesn't seem to have taken any damage.

Feeling dizzy, he pushes himself on the side, raising himself with his right arm. Edge is standing in the entryway, blocking the access to a clearly panicked Red. "boss, don't, it's my…" Before he can finish his sentence, his brother grabs him hard by the collar. 

"Continue what you were saying or enter this room before I am done, and I will fucking end you, Runt." Stretch doesn't think he ever heard Edge sound so pissed, and it actually scares him for a second. The way Red's eye lights shrink in his sockets proves him right; he should feel fear. He doesn't think he likes it. "Is this clear, or do I need to prove to you that I am serious?" The collar is probably choking Red by now.

The smaller skeleton gives an apologetic glance toward Stretch, but his eyes are on the ground when he gives his answer, "yes, boss." His voice is hoarse.

This is the moment Stretch thinks he should say something. "yo, can’t we just talk?" He quickly has to shortcut further in his room, falling coccyx first on the floor at the messy attempt, when a bone fueled with red magic almost hits him. His soul turns blue as soon as he reappears, holding him down. 

Panic starts to bubble in his soul when he hears Edge shove Red away and order him to not let Blue get to the room if ever he comes back earlier. 

A second later, his bedroom door closes and the angry skeleton turns around to stare at him. Stretch is sure the way he looks at him could kill someone. It makes him feel like a babybones stuck in front of an adult, when they were still living in the capital's streets. Not a good feeling. 

It's clearly not going the way he wanted it to go. The plan was to make Edge jealous, to show him that if he kept saying he didn't want sex with him, then fine, Stretch had plenty other options. His plan might have been crappy (he definitely should have used someone else than Red to make him jealous), but he didn't think it would go that badly. 

Stretch raises his hands in front of him, fighting the heavy gravity working against him. "listen, you walked in on us before anything could truly happen." Maybe he can defuse the bomb before it truly explodes. 

Edge's mouth twists in a moment of rage. He sharply moves his arm so Stretch ends up thrown against the wall, pulled by magic. The hit against the hard surface awakens the pain in his ribs and makes his vision go blurry. 

Through gritted teeth, he tries to keep his words steady, "what the fuck, edgelord!" Isn't this going too far?

Seems like his Fell version isn't on the same page as he grabs Stretch by the throat to hold him there. Four bones stab the side of his hoodie's sleeves, pinning his arms in place. Well, he just has to hope Edge still values him a bit now.

"What the fuck, you say? You dare ask?" The grip on his throat is quite strong, sending thrilling shivers through his body. "Who gave you the permission to touch my brother? Who gave you the right to go to…" Edge doesn't finish this sentence, but Stretch thinks that, if he was crazy enough, he could hear the, _"Who gave you the right to go to someone else."_

They might not need to breathe to survive, but it does make it hard to speak. “it’s not like red is…” Stretch stops mid-sentence, sockets going wide as he realises he can’t say that Red isn’t Edge’s. He can’t fake not to know the meaning behind Red’s collar, the way Edge’s magic is imprinted on every inch of it. He can’t fake it because Edge is the one that explained it to him, trusted him enough to give him another glimpse into their own verse. 

_Okay. He fucked up. He should have chosen someone else._

Not being able to move, and the fingers on his throat, that makes him feel different ways, but first and foremost: utterly defenseless. His cargo pants are still unzipped from his making out session with Red, giving way too much view to his sacrum and pubis. 

“Good.” Edge says, voice cold, acknowledging that Stretch understood one part of his numerous mistakes. It doesn’t hold him from pressing a finger into the part of Stretch’s ribcage that is injured. The pain makes him gasp for air that doesn’t come. Shit. It feels wet, probably marrow, it’s definitely fractured. “Now, tell me why you did it.” 

Even if Edge’s tone is clearly an order and still very much enraged, Stretch’s automatic thought is _Shit no._ No way will he open up that way to the other. No way is he going to be that honest, he isn’t good at it, and it’s humiliating. With practice, he ignores the voice at the back of his mind reminding him he wouldn’t be in this situation if he had been honest to begin with.

“wanted to have some fun.” Wow, doesn't he sound like an asshole now. 

Edge studies him for a second, a hint of a smile reaches his mouth. It’s cruel, one Stretch isn’t sure he likes directed at him. No matter how his body reacts otherwise. He is fucked up. “Really? Let’s have fun then.” He summons a bone in his hand, one edge as sharp as a knife, which gives Stretch a sudden cold sweat, trying to move away instinctively. In answer, Edge presses further on his throat, Stretch choking on air long enough for the other to rip his sweater opens with the bone. 

His vision hazy, he feels more than he sees the hand grabbing his soul physically. “what, what are you doing?” Panic must be coating his soul, it is pulsing hard between Edge’s fingers. This is when Stretch realises he isn’t wearing his usual gloves, having direct contact with his everything. Having direct contact with his mind.

“Now, now.” Edge shushes him, as he brings the bright orange soul in front of his face. Stretch can feel how Edge’s consciousness is searching around in it, and he isn’t sure how to block it, how to react to it. They don’t do it here. Nobody ever touched his soul. “I shall explain something to you.” 

Stretch doesn’t expect the crimson tongue that traces a long line from the tip to the top of his soul. The wave of pleasure it sends through his whole body is so vivid and surprising, he can’t hold back a moan. It leaves him shaking, a pool of magic already forming between his legs. 

“I do not bed anybody. I will not fuck you, no matter all of your innuendos.” Edge seems satisfied with Stretch’s reaction, and the information the soul gives him. He still looks ready to crush what is in his palm at any second, which keeps Stretch on high alert. “Because you are not mine, understand, ashtray? Do you get what I mean?” He glances down at Stretch’s arousal, and the latter seriously feels the need to hide. 

If the Swap skeleton doesn't know exactly what the other means by it, he learns, a second later, when the intent Edge pushes in his soul becomes crystal clear. Suddenly, his mind is filled with someone else's feelings, and the desire to possess, to own, to keep and to protect, overwhelms him. It’s so intense that, when he comes back to himself, he is leaning forward breathing hard. 

Yes. Fuck, he wants that. A lot. But instead he says, “No way, no, fuck no.” Stretch shakes his head even if it makes him dizzy, trying to pull at the bones holding him against the wall. He might have some commitment issues. 

Edge gives him an unimpressed glare, his thumb rubbing circle on his now wet soul. The pleasure coming in pulses makes him tremble, legs wobbling under him. “You are asking for it. So let me be merciful, I will give you a taste of it.” He closes his phalanges a bit harder around Stretch’s soul, the sudden pain holding him from reacting when Edge moves forward to push him back against the wall. The spasms from his very source of life stop, only to give place to the harsh pain of teeth entering his clavicle. 

Stretch whines as magic drips down Edge’s mouth into the bite, intent obvious and strong: Mine.

His head is spinning, and somewhere in the middle of it, the bones holding his now destroyed hoodie disappeared so he falls forward against Edge. “Don’t want it, right?” He moves Stretch just enough for him to stare at his soul. It’s dripping and shining, betraying every word Stretch says into Edge’s naked hand.

That’s why it’s usually better to keep your soul under your clothes when you have a habit of lying about what you want. 

Easily so with how unstable Stretch is, Edge moves them to the desk, pressing Stretch's back against it. It leaves him in an uncomfortable and revealing position, his pants sliding down to the middle of his femurs. “Want me to fuck you that badly, Stretch?” Having the other finally using his nickname shouldn’t send such a shiver down his spine when he is in such a situation. 

He doesn’t want to be so vulnerable (or does he?).

To be honest, Stretch feels high. There’s the hand on his soul, caressing him and bringing him closer without even touching his pubis; Edge’s mark on his clavicle, pulsing with possession and want; the way he is getting manhandled; and even the pain of his cracked ribs. It’s all so much for his mind.

“never said on these terms.” Shit, he sounds so breathless. “not forming something for you.” At least he has control over this.

This seems to amuse Edge, who puts back the soul between Stretch’s ribs. The sudden lack of contact is unwanted, and without any control over it he moves his hips forward, whining in the back of his throat. It’s so embarrassing. “No need, have fun holding back.” 

Edge undoes his stupidly tight pants, but in this position Stretch can’t see between his legs. However, he does feel the large cock when it presses against the inside of his femur. This is also when he realises he is now free to move, so he slides his hands under Edge’s leather jacket, bringing him down over him. He lets his phalanges scratch hard at his shoulders when he reaches them. 

It doesn’t seem to displease the other, even as he winces slightly. He grabs Stretch’s iliac crests and pushes his dick inside Stretch’s magic filled pelvic inlet. The pleasure is sudden and similar to how his soul was feeling. It’s his magic that is getting fucked after all. He grabs harder at Edge, pressing their mouths together when the latter starts fucking him harshly. 

Stretch makes sure that Edge hisses in pain when he bites his tongue, not wanting to give in all the control. If he is honest, the way he keeps whimpering, fucking himself as much as he can in this position on Edge, is everything but having control, but he can avoid to think about it. His mind is bathing in Edge’s presence, in the intent filling him, in the bliss and ache every thrust brings him. 

They kiss messily, and Stretch takes in every quiet sound Edge makes. It’s getting so much so quickly, Edge’s cock brushing against his bones where it’s damn too sensitive. Where the other probably knows it is. 

Just the idea of getting fucked by him, harsh and rough, has always been spank bank material for Stretch. And now that’s it’s happening, it’s even better. Plus, he has been on edge since earlier, soul buzzing because of something new to him. 

Edge seems to feel it, and probably does, a link between them activated by the bite. 

He releases Stretch’s iliac crest with one hand, giving one last hard thrust as he presses his fingers in the bite mark, bringing Stretch’s orgasm real fast. The latter closes his sockets under the strong sensation, sure that his fingers will leave marks on Edge’s shoulders. _Good._

A magic orgasm is always weird, spreading through all of his bones at once and making him way too sensitive. Orange come drips from his pubis and on the top of his femurs. So to have Edge still thrusting into him, to finish himself, is too much. Stretch can’t hold back the moans at how oversensitive everything is, but still shivers with content when Edge presses himself against him to come against his bones. 

They are both left breathless, taking back their senses slowly. It seems like Edge is faster to do so when he moves away, bringing out a whine from Stretch when his cock slides out. He is such an embarrassment, but he can’t help it. His mind is fucked at the moment. 

“Now,” he says, zipping his pants back, forcing Stretch to focus his attention on him. “I will leave you. My message is clear, and I am giving you time to think.” Stretch thinks he sees something akin to pain under the controlled facade Edge shows, but he isn’t sure in this state. 

The Fell skeleton walks to the door, opening it wide, obviously not caring for Stretch, who is still spread out on his desk. “However, note that I have limited patience. This is a one time offer, it will not come back.” Without turning around, he closes the door hard behind him.

Oh well.

Stretch looks at his ceiling. It feels fucking lonely now, only the pain in his bones and the post-orgasm laziness to accompany him.

Damn.

He wants Edge back already.

Might have some thinking to do.

***

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked it, leave a kudos or a comment! It's seriously motivating to see that someone appreciate what I write haha.
> 
> Wanna follow me or talk?
> 
> Twitter: ashtrayy_lv  
Tumblr: Sansybooy


End file.
